


Acacia Honeymoon Hotel

by blue_fjords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dancing around the attraction for years, Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa McCall have finally gotten together.  Same goes for Derek and Stiles.  Everything is aces.  Except the Sheriff and Melissa haven't told their sons about their relationship, and Stiles hasn't told his father about Derek.  Everything comes to a head during one crazy weekend at the Acacia Honeymoon Hotel.  Told from the POV's of Derek and Melissa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acacia Honeymoon Hotel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/gifts).



> Written for asocialfauxpas for the TW Fall Harvest Challenge. Thanks for your awesome prompts! I tried combining one w/ a few of your listed likes. Many thanks to sullymygoodname for going above and beyond on beta duties. This is set during the weekend before Thanksgiving break the first year Scott and Stiles are away at college. Stiles is 19 here (I reject the April birth date for him; I'm just too disturbed by him driving before 16) and I've given the Sheriff a first name that is NOT John.
> 
> The title was chosen b/c the yellow acacia supposedly means "secret love" in the language of flowers. Take that w/ a huge grain of salt. Acacia is not native to California, and has several varieties which mean different things in different places. I needed a "secret" flower, so it became the name of my hotel. The hotel itself physically resembles the set-up of Kellerman's. In my head, it does!

Melissa

To: #1son – _Dinner when I get back Mon? Have smthg impt to tell you!!_

To: wondermom – _awesome!_

To: wondermom – _god news, right?_

To: #1son – _of course! very godly. ;)_

To: wondermom – _argh. good. have fun @ conf!_

To: #1son – _plan to. love you._

To: wondermom – _love you too mom_

Melissa pocketed her phone and leaned back in the passenger seat of the rented convertible. Even with the top up for now, it felt classy and romantic.

"All set?" Jeremiah asked, glancing from the road to her.

"Monday night, the cat's outta the bag," she said cheerfully. "Stiles will be there?"

"He promised. As long as he hasn't, and I quote, 'been pulled into a swirling miasma of weird, thereby forgetting everything and losing a leg, only to show up three months later sporting the moniker Peg-Leg Pete and tattooed sleeves.'"

"You've really missed him this year, haven't you?" Melissa asked, smiling.

"I really have." He returned her smile. It made him look ten years younger. "You're sure we have to tell them?"

"Pretty damn sure." It'd been fun, sneaking around like lovesick teenagers, pretending they could successfully hide their relationship from their boys while Stiles and Scott were away at college, but it was time to take this to the next level. And that meant letting people know there was something to take to that level. She leaned over and patted Jeremiah's knee. "United front!"

He squeezed her hand. He was always being supportive like that; at first it had honestly been a little weird. Good-weird, just – for so long, if Melissa was going to count on someone, it was Scott. Scott brought her coffee, Scott dropped by with dinner when she had to take an extra shift, Scott called to see how she was doing. His last two years of high school, especially, he'd grown into her rock. He certainly hadn't learned it from his father. When Scott left for college, the calls and texts continued, but she wasn't expecting anyone to pick up the slack. And then Jeremiah showed up halfway through her shift one night with two cups of coffee and a thinly veiled excuse to talk to her.

"Exit coming up," Jeremiah said.

"Right. I'm supposed to look for the barn with the blue cow?" She glanced out her window. The leaves had fallen, leaving an unobstructed view of—

"A green pig!" Jeremiah exclaimed. "When'd they paint that?"

"You came here once when Stiles was fourteen," she said, smiling. "People are allowed to redecorate. Besides, the pig's cute."

"But Stiles named the cow," Jeremiah protested, signaling for the exit ramp. He gave the pig a little disapproving frown as they drove past. "Five miles," he told Melissa. "Though the last bit's on a dirt road, so hold on to your hat."

The setting sun bathed Acacia Honeymoon Hotel in golden light as they rounded a curve and started down the slight incline to the main lodge. Melissa glanced at Jeremiah. The road was paved, as was the parking lot, and from the look on his face, the hotel had grown quite a bit bigger. In addition to the main building, there were several smaller cabins, and what looked like an activity hall and a restaurant. There were several trails branching off around a small lake behind the hotel, though, like Jeremiah had told her.

"Bigger?" she asked with a smile.

"Different," he replied.

"Nothing wrong with different."

He relaxed a bit at that and parked the car in front of Reception before taking her hand and kissing her fingers.

"Different I can work with," he said.

Melissa looked over the colorful brochures in the lobby while Jeremiah checked them in, not really tuning into their conversation until she heard the words 'honeymoon suite.'

"The honeymoon suite?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and joining him at the counter.

"Yes, ma'am," the receptionist, Chuck according to his nametag, said with a wink.

"All of the suites are called honeymoon suites," Jeremiah mumbled. "Stiles thought it was funny."

Chuck pursed his lips. "We take love very seriously at Acacia Honeymoon Hotel," he said crisply.

"Oh, we do, too," Melissa said earnestly, and took Jeremiah's hand. "Isn't that right, Sugar Bum?"

Chuck frowned down at their hands as Jeremiah stifled a laugh. "Here are your keys." Chuck handed over two swipe cards, decorated in hearts and flowers. "And here is a listing of all our couples' activities for the weekend. Have a loving time at Acacia Honeymoon Hotel."

Jeremiah pulled her out of the office before they cracked up. "Chuck didn't like us much," he said. "That's too bad."

"He just didn't like us because he thought I was your floozy on the side," Melissa said, buckling her seatbelt for the drive around to their room.

"What? Why'd he think that?"

Melissa tapped her ring-less left hand. She shouldn't have brought it up; the last thing she wanted was for Jeremiah to feel pressured to take off his wedding band. But on the other hand, they'd been dating almost three months and had been heading in that direction for years. His devotion to his late wife was beautiful and romantic, but Melissa was starting to get sympathetic looks from her coworkers.

"Listen to some of these activities," she said, opening the brochure for a change of subject. "Water-skiing for two. Marionette-building for two. Basket weaving for two. Music composition for two. Crossword puzzles for two." She looked up as Jeremiah parked the car in front of their building. "You can forget that last one right now. I don't share crossword puzzles."

"Joke's on you, because I demand utter solitude for all my marionette-ing."

She climbed out of the car, her good cheer returning. Their little red convertible stuck out in a sea of sensible Toyotas. She followed Jeremiah up the stairs to their room with a little spring in her step.

Their honeymoon suite was, in a word, ostentatious, enough so to make her wonder if the rooms were all this over the top, or if their suite was super-special. They were probably supposed to swoon upon entering and catching sight of the trail of rose petals leading to the honest-to-God heart-shaped bed, but her heart caught in her throat for all the wrong reasons.

"I'm just going to sweep up these petals," Jeremiah said, leaning down to gather them up.

"I'm going to check out the bathroom," she told him. Her hands itched to help, but she was trying to get better at relying on him for these little things, even when they weren't little to her. Six months ago she'd come home from a late shift to a trail of blood leading all the way to Scott's bed – some kind of wolfsbane preventing him from healing. It was a lot of blood, and God bless Jeremiah for remembering and nipping that fear in the bud.

But Scott was fine now, and Melissa was on a weekend getaway with her boyfriend, a man she'd had sex with seven times (not that she was counting [she was totally counting]). And soon they'd let their sons in on the secret, and they'd be a new kind of family. She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink and allowed herself to smile, big and wide. The Jacuzzi was huge, the towels were fluffy, and there were absolutely zero stressors.

Four hours later, she was ready to revise that assessment. As soon as she stopped laughing.

"Just leave it!" she managed, giggling. _Giggling_.

"But it's not supposed to do that!" Jeremiah protested.

She'd seldom seen anyone look that… befuddled was the perfect word. Jeremiah looked down at his tarts – chocolate and sea salt caramel, apparently – that'd turned into goopy pools of brown in their shortbread-like shells.

"A man puts tarts in the fridge, he expects the fridge to keep the tarts whole," he muttered.

She couldn't help it. She laughed again. He'd been so proud! And the look on his face when he opened the fridge door—

"At least I'm providing laughter for my lady," he said with a sigh.

"You are," she agreed. "And I'm still going to eat that, you know." She dramatically sniffed the air. "It smells delicious."

She walked on her knees to the edge of the bed and swung her legs to the floor, glowing a bit at his eyes on her. The short shift nightgown was a good idea, she'd have to remember. It certainly looked sexier than her usual flannel pants and cami. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Why don't you call the front desk and see if they can fix it," she suggested, "and I'll get us some ice?" She eyed his chest. "But put on a shirt first. That's mine."

His face turned red as a tomato whenever she said anything like that. It was one of her new favorite pastimes, she thought, grabbing a cardigan and slipping out the door. If she had her way, she'd keep him blushing for years to come.

Derek

"Oh my God! Derek, get in here. This Jacuzzi's unreal!"

Derek padded into the bathroom on bare feet and snorted. Stiles' clothes were strewn across the tiles and steam was already rising in the air. Stiles himself was cozied right up to one of the jet streams, a blissed-out look on his face as the hot water worked at the muscles across his shoulders.

"You sure you don't want me to leave you two alone?" Derek asked drily. "I'd say 'get a room,' but…"

"Very funny. Get your ass in here." Stiles patted the top of the water, splashing himself a bit in the process. "That was way more suave in my head."

"In mine, too." Derek pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it over Stiles' clothes. It actually originally belonged to Stiles, but Derek had stretched it out too much and Stiles insisted he keep it. Derek's hands went to his belt buckle.

"Bow chicka bow wow," Stiles sang, like it was a real song. Derek rolled his eyes, but pulled the belt through the loops slowly and dropped it on the pile. "Uh ah uhhhhhh," Stiles continued. Derek gave him (what he hoped was) a sultry look and thumbed open the button on his jeans. "Roll your hips," Stiles called. It probably looked stupid, but Derek gave him a slow roll. Stiles was reduced to wordless gasps and theatrical moans. As soundtracks went, it left a little something to be desired, but it was certainly enthusiastic. 

Derek shimmied out of his jeans, a little on the tight side today – it'd been a month since he'd seen Stiles; he was damn well going to wear the sex jeans – and kicked them across the floor. Stiles put his fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled when Derek hooked his thumbs in his underwear's waistband. Derek made a show of turning around and bending down. 

"Oh my God," Stiles whimpered. 

Face hidden, Derek allowed himself to smile. He pushed his underwear down, a little too quickly over his erection, causing a flash of pain, and abandoned all pretense of seduction to hurry into the Jacuzzi. He sent up a wave, but knowing them, it would hardly be the first one to go over the side.

"I should hire you for my next birthday." Stiles grinned up at him. "Holy shit," he gasped as Derek reached him and slotted their bodies together, cocks rubbing against each other, water sloshing against their chests. "I need—I need—"

"What do you need, Stiles?" Derek breathed. He needed Stiles' neck, and it was right there, waiting for his lips and teeth to latch on to it. Mmmm.

"Cannibal," Stiles teased him. Fondly. It still surprised him, sometimes, the sheer amount of fondness in Stiles' voice when Stiles talked to him. "I need the D."

"Elegant," Derek murmured, pressing his tongue against the hickey he'd just made. Hickies were elegant. In some cultures, probably.

"I'm nineteen. I won't be elegant until I'm ninety. Come on, take me, Derek, I'm yours." He grabbed one of Derek's hands and plunged it into the hot water, guiding him down.

"You – you were in here fingering yourself?" Derek asked, drawing back and looking down. Not that he could see from his vantage point, but he pressed his fingers along Stiles' ass.

"You were taking forever sniffing around the room! I had to occupy myself," Stiles protested. "I thought of you coming in here and fucking me underwater, if that helps any."

"It does," Derek grunted. It was both harder and easier to line himself up in the Jacuzzi, but then he was pushing slowly in. Stiles gasped.

"No, I'm good, keep going," he said. His heartbeat sounded very loud in the tiled bathroom. Derek leaned forward and kissed him, kept kissing him until he bottomed out.

"Oh my God, I missed you," Stiles mumbled, his cheeks coloring. Derek kissed the blush, chasing it down Stiles' neck, before pulling out and thrusting in.

Underwater sex, Derek decided, presented some rather unique challenges. Leverage being chief among them. The floating and heat were really working for Stiles, but Derek needed to grip a faucet and plant his knees on the bottom of the pool to set up a rhythm. He knew the second he found Stiles' prostate, as his eyes rolled up in his head and his ankles locked around Derek's waist. Derek fucked him relentlessly and Stiles came soon after, clamping down hard on Derek's cock and dragging his own orgasm out of him.

Stiles laughed a little breathlessly. "That was almost simultaneous. I'm marking it off my checklist."

"Whatever makes you happy," Derek said. He didn't bother pulling out, just laid his head down on Stiles' chest to catch his breath, closing his eyes. Stiles ran wet fingers through his hair.

"Careful of the jelly fish," he said. Derek cracked an eye open. Stiles' come was dispersing in the water by his nose.

"That's hardly the worst thing that's been in this pool," Derek said.

"Oh, very romantic, thank you."

"You called your jizz a jelly fish first."

"Point. But, please, don't tell me what you can sense about this Jacuzzi. I'd like to remain ignorant."

"I can tell you I'm going to stay in you until we're both hard again. How's that?" Derek asked. Though he was going to be the one with a back to one of those jet streams. The water did help him maneuver them, he'd give it that. And the jet stream felt _amazing_.

"Comfortable?" Stiles asked, a smile playing across his lips.

"Nghhhhhh." It was pretty much perfect. Derek slid his hands up Stiles back and across his chest so he could thumb at Stiles' nipples and cause his mouth to fall open on a moan.

"Much better use for this Jacuzzi than the last time I was here," Stiles gasped out.

"I thought you said you came here with your dad when you were fourteen," Derek said, frowning.

"And the only action I got was with my right hand," Stiles said mournfully. "And then my dad walked into the bathroom without knocking. There are just some things a father shouldn't know about his son."

Derek stilled. "Like me," he said softly.

"Hey, no! I'm going to tell him." Stiles gripped Derek on both sides of his face. "Derek. You're not my dirty little secret. You know that, right? I've just been greedy. Wanted you just for me." His voice got quieter. "I told you I loved you, didn't I?"

A week ago, on the phone, in the middle of a conversation about piranhas, before stumbling over his tongue to say Derek didn't need to say it back. Derek had said it back.

"Yes, you did," Derek agreed. Stiles was staring at him, eyes huge. It made Derek wonder what he looked like right now to Stiles, to widen his eyes and cause his heart rate to increase so dramatically, to bring such a flush to his cheeks and cause his cock to harden again so quickly. Derek probably looked like a lovesick fool. Well, it was true.

"Monday night, we'll tell him. Okay? I promise," Stiles said before smashing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Derek rocked up into him. Stiles had his feet on the bottom of the pool and his hands tangled in Derek's hair. Derek reached into the water to grip Stiles' ass and tug him down as Stiles tried to push up. Water frothed around them, competing with the sound of their harsh breaths and wordless moans, the suction noise each time one of them was able to catch a lip or a bit of skin in a panting kiss. Sweat curled Stiles' hair and caught in his eyelashes. He was so beautiful.

Derek banged his head on the corner of the Jacuzzi when he came. It took him by surprise, both the orgasm and the sharp pain.

"Whaaa?" Stiles slurred. "Did you just—"

"Shhhh." Derek took Stiles' hands from around his own neck and kissed Stiles' fingers. "Come on."

He dropped his hands back into the water and jerked Stiles off slowly until he came with a sob and collapsed against Derek's chest.

"Jacuzzi sex is the best," he mumbled after a moment.

"Yeah." Derek pushed back Stiles' sweaty hair and kissed his forehead. They stayed in there for another ten minutes before Derek pushed himself up. He had to help Stiles walk on wobbly knees, just as far as their bed, before Stiles collapsed into the sheets, snoring in seconds. Derek was tempted to join him straight away, but the Jacuzzi had been incredibly hot. They'd stocked the mini-fridge with water and Stiles' favorite sugar sodas when they arrived, but when Derek opened the door, he found that a fuse had blown or something, because though it was plugged in and turned on, it certainly wasn't emitting cold air. He sighed. He'd have to put on pants. Damn.

There were only two rooms on their floor – the honeymoon suites, the desk manager had called them, but according to Stiles, they were all called that – with an ice machine between them in a little alcove. Derek grabbed his key and the ice bucket and shuffled out into the hall. He was just shoveling a scoop of ice into their bucket when the door across the hall opened and closed, and a very familiar scent wafted towards him followed by soft footsteps.

"Oh, excuse me— _Derek_?" Melissa sounded shocked to see him. Derek was a bit more concerned with what – or, more accurately – who he smelled on her.

"Is the Sheriff following me?" he asked. He didn't straighten up. Better to keep his muscles bunched for a quick getaway.

"What? No! Honey, why would you think that?" Melissa pulled her thin cardigan tighter around her frame. "You—you can smell him?"

Her voice and her heart sounded almost apprehensive, cut by the scent of just a bit of fresh sweat. Derek blinked at her. Her thin cardigan was worn over a short, sleeveless nightgown. As Stiles would say, _Oh my God._

"You're here with Stiles' father."

She winced. "Guilty. Look, Derek, we're not planning to tell the boys about this until Monday. But we will definitely tell them then." She put her hand on his arm. "Can I count on you to keep the secret? Just for the weekend?"

Monday night dinner was gearing up to be a shitshow the likes of which Derek hadn't experienced since the days of Jennifer Blake. He looked down at her hand.

"Think of it this way," she said. "Jeremiah—" Three years he'd known the Sheriff, two of those quite well, and never had he known his name was Jeremiah. "—and I owe it to our kids to tell them ourselves. We don't want them to hear about this except from us. Can you understand that?"

It did actually make sense, for Stiles, as well. And if _Jeremiah_ was revealing a secret relationship Monday night, he couldn't very well hold it against Stiles for hiding one, too. It wasn't the kind of relationship Derek had ever had with his own father, but then he'd last seen the man when he was six years old, so what did he know about father-son relationships anyhow? The Stilinski men thrived on give-and-take and held each other in mutual respect. This would be… good. A funny story to tell the grandkids. Derek shivered.

"Monday night," he agreed.

" _Thank you_ ," she said, squeezing his shoulder. Her smile was genuine, though a bit uncertain, as she asked, "Who are you here with?"

Derek drew a complete and utter blank. If he kept Melissa's secret for her, didn't he really owe it to Stiles to keep his secret, too?

"No one," he blurted out.

"No one?" she repeated, frowning. "You came to a honeymoon hotel by yourself?"

"My therapist recommended I take a retreat," he said. "Get in touch with, um, feelings."

That sounded really bad. Luckily Stiles wasn't able to hear him bungle this – he'd add some color commentary about learning to love himself in the self-love way – but Melissa was a health care professional. She could respect confidentiality. And therapy.

"Okay," she said, letting it go. "I'll just get my ice, then. The fridge broke."

"Ours did, too. I mean—"

"You don't have to tell me," she said quickly. "You've seemed… more content lately. So, something's working. I'm glad whoever it is makes you happy."

He shuffled his feet. She meant it. Hopefully she'd still mean it when she found out it was her boyfriend's son. He handed her a full bucket of ice.

"I won't say anything to Stiles or Scott," he said. "Enjoy your weekend."

Melissa

"I concede the point," Melissa said, laughing. "You can have the oars first."

She leaned back on her elbows in the canoe. There was just enough room for her to stretch her legs out in front of her, her toes nudging against the picnic basket they'd loaded down with brunch. Jeremiah gave her an indulgent smile.

"We should have brought you a parasol," he said.

"And a book of poetry," she agreed.

He laughed and pulled the oars through the water with powerful strokes. The lake was big enough to not seem crowded with a dozen or so canoes on it; couples like them taking advantage of the romantic setting to re-enact a scene out of a Victorian romance novel. There was a boat off to the side, the older couple in it laughing as they turned slowly in circles no matter how they tried steering. In about twenty years, that could be her and Jeremiah – laughing at their own silliness, just enjoying being together.

It was something she'd never really thought of with her ex-husband.

Their boat listed a bit to the right.

"Still trying to get this steering thing down pat," Jeremiah apologized.

"Oh, I don't care where we go," she said, waving her hand. "Though I'd prefer not to capsize."

"No capsizing. Got it."

It was a little colder on the water than she'd thought it would be – not really barefoot weather. She wiggled her toes defiantly and settled back in her seat. The hotel clearly thought their guests would be using the canoes for, well, canoodling rather than speed, and the back-facing seat was quite comfortable. She let her eyes drift over to the other canoes. There was already one canoe headed back to shore. A pair of young men with too much energy to sleep in, she supposed. She eyed them lazily. The one paddling with his back to her was wearing burgundy and white, the colors of BHHS. He even had a '24' on the back of his shirt. Just like Stiles, strangely enough. Her eyes flitted over to his companion and her mouth dropped open.

"Holy shit!" she gasped, starting violently. The canoe rocked alarmingly.

"What? What is it?" Jeremiah asked, raising his oars and looking around. Oh God, he could _not_ look around right now.

"Kiss me!" she commanded.

"We're on the lake…"

"Never mind, I'll do it."

She crawled onto her knees and moved towards him.

"Whoa!" he gasped, dropping the oars to steady the sides of the canoe. She caught one glance of Derek's surprised face, several yards away over Jeremiah's shoulder before she was falling over the side.

Damn it!

She was saved from accidentally outing her relationship to Stiles (Stiles! Here with Derek! How had she not seen that coming? Stiles had definitely had it bad for the man all last year. How long had they been keeping this a secret? Jeremiah was going to hit the roof.) by the elderly couple, now several yards behind them, completely capsizing their boat.

"Melissa!" Jeremiah lunged for the oars and managed to catch a hold of both of them before they slipped out of their brackets.

"I'm fine!" she said, raising her voice and swimming for their canoe, hardly half a stroke away. "You stay there. Take care of that; don't come here."

Jeremiah gave her an odd look. "I _have_ taken care of the oars. The blade's a little sharp; take my hands."

She gripped his wrists and he hauled her in, planting one foot behind him as the canoe wobbled alarmingly. Ugh, she felt like a beached seal as she finally flopped over the side.

"I am all right!" she announced loudly. "Super fine!" She coughed up a bit of water and looked across the lake. Stiles(!) and Derek had righted the other couple's canoe and helped the lady up into it again. The elderly man almost capsized it again as she watched, but Derek caught it and held it steady. "I'm just going to catch my breath then we'll head to shore so I can change my clothes!"

Jeremiah scratched his head. "Okay. Was that a hint?"

Melissa blinked. "Yes," she decided. "If I'm getting naked, so are you."

There was a splash out on the lake, but when she looked, Derek was already hustling Stiles up the shore, using his werewolf strength to pull the canoe up onto the bank. Phew.

Jeremiah cleared his throat, the tips of his ears bright red. "I'm just going to turn this thing around, then."

"Good idea! We are turning around!" she practically shouted. "Sorry," she said in a quieter voice. "Water in my ear. I couldn't tell how loud I was."

Jeremiah grunted. "There's a blanket in the basket if you're cold."

She _was_ cold and reached gratefully for the basket, taking out the blanket and throwing it around her shoulders. Jeremiah was very pointedly not watching, and one glance down showed her why. Cold water and a bit of a breeze combined with a white shirt to paint a rather obscene picture. She flipped one edge of the blanket over the opposite shoulder and leaned back in her seat, calming down enough to turn her attention to the fact that Derek was on a romantic getaway with Stiles.

She needed some damn answers. How long? Were they ever going to say anything? How serious was it? She knew some hardcore shit about Derek F**king Hale, and no way was that man able to handle… which was more than a little judgmental and she should stop. That crack he'd made about his therapist – was he actually _in_ therapy? God, she hoped so.

"I was going to give you a penny for your thoughts, but from the look on your face, it'd cost me five bucks," Jeremiah said, breaking her reverie.

"Expensive date, that's me." They were almost back to shore now, and she leaned forward, smiling. "Would you do me the biggest favor? I noticed there was a gift shop when we checked in, and I didn't pack a sweatshirt…"

Hell, no, she hadn't. One did not pack sweatshirts for sex weekends. But she needed a good ten minutes alone with Derek, and Jeremiah laughed and said he'd get her the tackiest one he could find, and she should wear it to Monday's dinner.

They hauled their canoe up the shore, ignored the way the attendant eyed Melissa's dripping clothes and blanket cape, and split up. Melissa waited until Jeremiah had disappeared around a corner before flat out running to their building and up the stairs to the suite. The basket knocked uncomfortably against her legs as she ran. At least she hadn't been wearing her shoes when she fell into the lake, or she would have fallen and scraped her knees at the least.

She burst into the suite, left the basket on the table, and went out onto the balcony.

"Derek!" she hissed in a piercing whisper. "Derek Hale, front and center _right now_!"

A moment later, the other balcony door slid open. Derek stepped out in nothing but a towel, skin glistening and hair dripping. Well, that was just not fair. She jerked her eyes up to his face, and yeah, he knew he was going to get it.

"I don't have a lot of time," he mumbled.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "You left Stiles in the shower, didn't you?" No amount of head-shaking was going to dispel that mental image.

"You don't really need me to answer that, right?"

Her eyes flew open. "That's something Stiles would say! He's really rub—how long has this been going on?"

Derek shifted on his feet. "Since he graduated."

"Oh my God, that's over five months!" She narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second, Mr. Shifty Feet. You're not telling me something."

Ha, werewolf senses had nothing on Mom Sense! Derek glanced guiltily over his shoulder before looking down at his feet.

"It was a lot earlier than that. For me."

"Oh." It was a bit more honesty than she'd been expecting. "So I guess I don't have to ask you if you love him. Why hasn't he told his father?"

The tips of his ears turned red. "Why haven't you two told Stiles?"

"That's not really – fine, I see your point. Let me guess: he's planning to drop the bomb on Monday night?"

"That's the plan."

They assessed each other silently for a moment. Damn, Derek and Stiles, together! It was either a perfect match or they were going to kill each other. Her mind whirled. 

"I have to get back," he said finally.

"Okay. Are we going to watch each other's backs until Monday night?" she asked.

He leaned across the railing of his balcony and held out his hand. She could just reach to shake it.

"Monday," he said.

"Monday," she agreed.

Derek

Derek quickly grabbed the bottle of lube and darted back into the bathroom, his heart racing. Stiles was leaning against the sink, naked, looking something up on his phone.

"Sorry," he said, flashing a grin. "I got bored. Did you have to go all the way back home to find that thing?"

"It wasn't where I thought." Derek loosened his towel and hung it up, picking Stiles' towel up as well. Stiles was a notorious towel-dropper. It completely defeated the purpose of having a towel, in Derek's opinion, to leave it all wet and dank on the floor. "What were you doing on your phone?"

"Huh?" Stiles asked, eyes a little glazed and focused nowhere near Derek's face. "Oh! I was signing us up for tonight's dance contest."

Derek started to laugh and Stiles' face fell. "Sorry!" Derek said hurriedly. "I didn't realize you were being serious."

Stiles shrugged, like it meant nothing, which meant the opposite of nothing. "I like dancing with you."

Which had happened exactly once, at Lydia's post-prom party, back when Derek hadn't thought Stiles was serious about them either. But maybe he had been all along, and Derek should really revise what he'd told Melissa. It was a conversation for a time when they weren't naked and about to have mid-morning sex.

"Then we'll dance," Derek agreed, trying to distract Stiles with a kiss as his arms snaked around Stiles' waist. Stiles laughed against his lips and batted Derek's hands away. They half-stumbled, half-wrestled themselves back into the shower.

"Such grace!" Stiles gasped, spitting out a mouthful of water. "We're definitely going to win!"

"If we can both still walk by then," Derek mumbled, sinking – gracefully, he'd add – to his knees and gently turning Stiles around. They'd found, through an enjoyable process of trial and error, that Derek loved eating Stiles out and Stiles preferred it in the shower, with the sound of falling water drowning out the obscene sounds of Derek's tongue. Derek liked the sounds, but he could hear them regardless. It was a win-win. Derek lost himself in it, the taste and smell of Stiles overwhelming him, Stiles' lean, strong muscles trembling in Derek's hands. He pressed his tongue in deeper, moaning at the heat and closeness of Stiles. At the way he turned to a writhing mess in Derek's arms.

It always took him by surprise when Stiles came from this alone, but it pretty much always happened, and this time was no exception. Derek pressed a kiss to the small of Stiles' back and helped him down to the floor of the shower. Stiles' cheeks were flushed an endearing shade of pink as he bumped his head against Derek's and poked Derek in the shoulder.

"On your feet, Wolfman," he said. "I'm going to—" He made a suggestive hand gesture.

"Make balloon animals?" Derek guessed. "Play a trumpet?"

"You're awfully snarky for a man who's about to get the brains sucked out of him," Stiles grumbled. Water caught in his eyelashes; they looked like crystals.

"There's no historical proof of zombies," Derek said lightly. Years and years ago, he'd had a human cousin, Nick, that he'd spend hours snarking with, loose and relaxed and the happiest he'd ever been. Peter had hated him, probably because Derek liked him so much. Nick died in a car accident when Derek was fifteen, before… everything. Stiles was a lot like Nick, except for the sex. And the type of love. And a lot of other things that Derek couldn't concentrate on right now because he was standing under a spray of hot water and Stiles had his lips wrapped around Derek's dick. But they would have liked each other, he was sure of it.

"You'd like my cousin Nick," he said.

Stiles grinned at him, wide and obscene, and hummed happily. Derek groaned and slapped the shower tiles. Stiles just redoubled his efforts. He always said he liked it when Derek was loud, and Derek did his best to oblige him, coming with a particularly fervent "Fuck!"

He joined Stiles on the shower floor, kissing until the water started to lose a bit of its heat.

"I know there were some couple things we could do before lunch," Stiles said, struggling to his feet and turning off the water. "But what do you say we just nap for the rest of the morning?"

He held out his hand and Derek took it, allowing himself to be hauled up by Stiles.

"I could be tempted to spend the next couple of hours with you in bed," Derek said with a straight face.

Stiles smiled. God, they were That Couple, cemented by Stiles raising Derek's hand to his lips and kissing his fingers. Well. There were a lot worse things they could be.

Melissa

"Ready for Couples' Artistic Expression?" Melissa asked, smoothing down her sweatshirt. She thought puffy paint had gone out of style twenty years ago, but apparently not at Acacia.

Jeremiah shut the bathroom door firmly behind him. "You don't want to go in there."

"Really?" A fart joke? Great that they were that level of comfortable around each other now, but still… a fart joke on their romantic weekend?

"Oh, no, no," Jeremiah said, catching the expression on her face. "The vent. Our neighbors are, um, enthusiastic."

Oh my God. That was his _son_! She hurriedly schooled her features when Jeremiah frowned. "We'll just have to pay them back later," she said, a little loudly, though she doubted Derek could really hear her at the moment. He was busy. And she needed a change of subject. "Come on; I want to sign us up for that dance competition on the way."

Melissa was an indifferent dancer at best, unless she counted shaking her hips while making dinner (she did not), but she'd seen Jeremiah do a little soft shoe when he thought no one was looking. There weren't a whole lot of things that put that goofy smile on his face, and she'd like to see it more often.

It crept across his face in Couples' Artistic Expression, when they were up to their elbows in modeling clay and the "instructor" waltzed by their station, flinging glitter and humming along, off-key, to the opera she'd chosen for background music. _Ghost_ it was not.

"Demi Moore gave me unrealistic expectations about pottery wheels," Melissa muttered, shaking her head and sending a cloud of glitter to the ground. Jeremiah snorted.

"The clay is a symbol of your love for each other," the instructor announced. "It can be anything! _You_ can be _anything_!"

Melissa's pot crumbled in on itself.

"Don't worry, Mel," Jeremiah whispered. "I've got us covered."

He gestured to his creation, which he'd said at the start was going to be a vase for flowers he'd buy her, but now…

"You couldn't make that more phallic if you tried," she whispered back. Not quietly enough, though, as the instructor leveled them with a disapproving look only slightly hampered by the glitter clinging to her sleeves.

"Perhaps you two might like to try your luck at fabrics," she said icily.

Thirty minutes later they left, proud owners of a puffy painted sweatshirt masterpiece, a somewhat drippy twin to Melissa's gift shop acquisition.

"Where to next?" Jeremiah asked, taking her hand and kissing her fingers.

"Lunch! I was thinking we could do one of their classes, and learn how to make something different."

"Not sushi?" he asked warily.

"You might be surprised—ow!" Someone threw a rock at her! The hell?

"What? What happened?" Jeremiah asked, muscles tensing as he gauged the threat.

"Something just—bit me!" She finished, spotting the 'rock,' a crumpled scrap of paper. "And my shoe came untied." She knelt down and grabbed the note. Subtle, Derek. Real subtle. "Anyhow, what I was saying—"

A loud crash came from their left side, and they both whipped around. Jeremiah immediately went to help the Acacia' staffers pick up a fallen display advertising the local community theater. Melissa looked to their right. Sure enough, Derek was peering around the corner. He pointed to her closed fist and raised his eyebrows emphatically. She gave him an exasperated sigh that she was one hundred percent certain he could hear (they could probably hear it in Texas) and unfolded the note. 'WE'RE DOING SUSHI!' it said.

"Fine," she snapped under her breath. "But we're taking a carriage ride after lunch, so don't even think about it!"

They went to 'Italy Is for Lovers' instead. Jeremiah had tomato sauce on the tip of his nose the entire time, and Melissa knew she'd never felt this way about anyone before.

Derek

"Honestly, I thought there'd be a lot more, you know, 'High on a hill stood a lonely goatherd' stuff, and less—" Stiles gestured to the collection of heads in front of them ''—creepy shit."

"Puppets are always creepy," Derek muttered back. Peter-level creepy, to use a Stiles-coined expression, especially fitting considering Peter styled himself as a master puppeteer of humans and werewolves and anyone else who got in his way.

"The Muppets aren't creepy," Stiles argued. "Fraggles aren't creepy."

"They're a little creepy. And besides," Derek continued, cutting Stiles off when it looked like he was going to press the point, "these are marionettes. The strings are creepy."

"You're right. Almost as creepy as lurking in someone's bedroom, just waiting to leap out from the shadows."

Derek flushed. "That was years ago, _and_ I was wanted for murder. Unjustly."

Stiles' response was to lean over and kiss Derek on the nose.

"Have you gentlemen chosen a head?"

Stiles choked and coughed while Derek turned to their instructor, a humorless man named Bob, with gray hair and an equally gray face.

"We'll take the curly-haired boy," Derek said.

"That's not even in the top five creepiest things I've heard him say," Stiles wheezed to Bob. Bob didn't crack a smile, just picked out the curly head and thrust it in Derek's hands.

"Bodies are over here," Bob said. Stiles' eyes were watering from trying to keep his laughter in; it made them a kind of molten copper, Derek thought. Not that he'd ever say something like that out loud. Derek quickly picked out a body in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe they could add a scarf later.

"Everyone," Bob said, voice flat. The other three couples, bodies and heads long since chosen, crowded closer. "We're going to attach the heads to the bodies, and the strings to the control bar. Everything is labeled. It's difficult to mess this up, but people always do."

Bob abruptly turned and left.

"I think you and Bob are soul-brothers," Stiles whispered, as the other couples looked around in confusion. Derek rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to make jokes at my expense all afternoon, or are you going to help me put Isaac together?"

"I'm going to watch you," Stiles decided. "And I'm going to raid the scrap bin to make him a scarf."

Derek was the first one done threading his strings through the proper holes in the control bar, and tied all his knots while half of the other couples bickered about what should go where. Stiles looped a bit of blue scrap around the marionette's neck and he now looked… nothing like Isaac.

"He needs more pronounced cheekbones," Stiles said. "Maybe I could draw some on. Do you have a pen?"

"A pen doesn't fit in my back pocket," Derek admitted. Sex weekend jeans – sacrifices had to be made.

A woman from one of the other couples swapped them her mascara for help tying her marionette together, and Stiles carefully applied two defining lines on Isaac's face.

"Hmmm. He kind of looks like a football player now, but a cute one. Like the Bad News Bears," Stiles said.

"Pretty sure that was baseball," Derek said.

The door slammed as Bob came back into their room, causing everyone but Derek to jump. Derek tensed, assessing the potential threat, warmed by Stiles' presence at his back. But it was just Bob who, judging from the smell, had merely left to eat a tuna fish sandwich. Okay then.

"Congratulations, you should have finished your marionette by now," Bob said tonelessly. "Marionette-making is just one of the super fun activities Acacia supplies for its happy couples. Be sure to check out fingerpainting tomorrow with Sarah. It is very sexy. The person holding the control bar is called the manipulator."

Bob turned and left again.

"Oh my God, we _have_ to do fingerpainting with Sarah!" Stiles enthused. "Put your fingers in the paint," he said in a stilted Bob impression. "Put your fingers on your partner. It is very sexy."

The other couples left with their marionettes, grumbling about Bob, but Stiles was in heaven.

"Do you think he was making a BDSM joke with that manipulator bit?" he asked, eyes shining.

Derek picked up the control bar and walked Isaac across the table. "Pretty sure he was referring to what I'm doing now."

"And now I'm disturbed by you manipulating Isaac."

"Not planning on telling him that's what it's called when I leave this little guy in his bed next week," Derek said with a grin.

"Aww, you missed him!" Stiles cooed, taking Derek by the hand and absentmindedly kissing his fingers again as they left. "I say we take Little Isaac for a spin around the grounds, what do you think?"

Melissa

"Couples' massage?" Jeremiah asked doubtfully.

"It will get you all limber for the dance competition," Melissa told him, rubbing surreptitiously at her hip. "And try to make up for the carriage ride."

Jeremiah winced. "The shocks were missing a little something," he agreed.

"Like shock absorbers. And since I chose the carriage ride, you have to let me make it up to you." She winked suggestively.

"Well, it definitely wasn't your fault, but you've convinced me we should check out the massages," he said, the tips of his ears turning red.

She laughed and took his hand, pulling him along. The weather was perfect – brilliant sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and just cool enough that they weren't overheating in their tacky sweatshirts. The entire weekend was perfect, barring—

"Dear God, what is that thing?" she asked, stopping in her tracks.

"Prince Humperdinck?" Jeremiah asked, looking around.

"No, that creepy doll thing," she said, pointing. A marionette was cavorting at the base of a low wall, its strings manipulated by someone crouched behind the wall.

"Oh! It looks a bit like a football player," Jeremiah mused. "Kind of cute, if you squint."

She raised her eyebrows, turning to give him a skeptical look, and while her head was turned, the doll disappeared.

"Mel! You scared it off!"

She had a sneaking suspicion she knew who the puppet belonged to then.

"Let's avoid the creepy wall and go to our incredibly sexy massage," she said loudly. There was a muffled groan from behind the wall as she and Jeremiah walked away.

Twenty minutes later, they were lying on two massage tables, side by side. She looked across at Jeremiah. For all of his blushing, the man had no problem appearing in a towel in front of a complete stranger. His eyes were at half mast, his lips curled up in a lazy smile – until his masseuse kneaded a particularly hard knot in his back.

"Ssssss-fuuu," he hissed. "Ahhh, that did not feel pleasant."

"It will soon," Melissa promised.

"It was feeling great at first," he said, wincing, "but I'm discovering I had a lot more bad spots back there than I thought I did."

"Looks good from here," she said.

"I love you," he said simply.

Melissa felt her eyes widen. She suspected he did, after Nemetons and werewolves and empty nests, all these things they shared and helped each other get through. But to hear him say it! And of course the first time he said it, she had someone else's hands all over her naked back. It was so them, honestly.

"Thank you," she said, getting a little choked up. "I mean." She cleared her throat. "I love you, too."

She couldn't wait to tell Scott. If ever she had any doubts about Jeremiah and their relationship, that erased them. She couldn't wait to tell her son that someone loved her, and she loved him back.

Derek

Derek surveyed his choice of ties, an exasperated frown on his face. He hadn't packed a tie, not thinking they'd be doing anything remotely approaching tie-required levels. Also, he didn't think he owned a tie. Which left him waffling between what Stiles brought: Batman or hot pink.

A good boyfriend would let Stiles be Batman. Derek sighed and reached for the hot pink tie.

"I think it suits you," Stiles said, coming up behind him and resting his hands on Derek's shoulders. "The tips of your ears turn that color sometimes, you know."

"If we're on the dance floor, doing something that turns my ears hot pink, we'll be kicked out of the competition," Derek grumbled. He looped the tie around his neck nevertheless. He also hadn't brought dress pants. His dark blue jeans were slightly less obscene than the sex jeans, and they were just going to have to do.

"I will keep my hands in G-rated territory," Stiles promised, waving his hands around. "Though sometimes they have a mind of their own, and it's just phalanges all over the place."

Derek caught at a flailing hand and sucked a couple of fingers into his mouth. Stiles immediately went still, his mouth dropping open. "Try," Derek said, releasing the fingers. He stepped back and gave Stiles an appraising look. Compliments were a bit of a struggle for him; he'd rather act – by holding Stiles close, or eating him out for half an hour. But he'd just done both of those things during dinner in their room. It was time to use words. "You look very handsome."

(It was a Lydia suggestion, voiced about a week into the summer. "Stiles is an attractive guy," she said. "But it's hard for him to remember that around your face. You need to tell him how handsome he is. Frequently." Derek thought she was going to leave unsaid the "Treat him right or I will rip your heart out," but that had followed before Lydia left for her freshman orientation.)

Stiles flushed. He had the perfect complexion for it.

"You're passable," he said, reaching for the Batman tie and fumbling it around his neck. Derek pressed a kiss to one of the hickeys that was too high up to be hidden and helped knot the tie. Stiles let out a shaky breath. "Let's go win this thing," he said.

Stiles held his hand all the way over to the dance hall. The hand-holding was a new development; Derek wondered if it was in reaction to their relationship fully going public in a couple of days. Once the Sheriff was informed, were PDA's going to be a matter of course? Derek could get used to that. Well, at least for hand-holding.

The dance hall was packed, and the competition was about to start. They'd taken a long time with dinner, or rather, after dinner activities. Not that Derek would ever regret it when Stiles was in the mood to fuck him slowly and hold him afterwards. It was Derek's not-so-guilty pleasure, and it always took a good half hour to recover from that. Stiles quickly flitted away to sign them in while Derek tracked the exits, dismissed the decorations, and surveyed the crowd for potential signs of danger.

Someone was wearing a very familiar cologne, and two seconds later, Derek spotted the Sheriff and Melissa grinning at each other in the far corner.

Shit. They had to get out _now_.

"Apparently this thing works like the dance competition in _Grease_ ," Stiles said, returning with their numbers. "Everyone dances at the same time and the judges ask you to leave if you suck. And look!" He slipped a gaudily decorated 24 over Derek's head; even the string had glitter on it. "Lucky number!"

"Great," Derek managed. "Stiles…"

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, looking up, eyes sparkling, and Derek couldn't do it.

"I hope we win," he said instead.

"It's in the bag!" Stiles said cheerfully.

The problem, however, was that a lot of the other dancers were actually pretty bad. The fewer dancers on the floor meant fewer dancers blocking the Sheriff's view of Stiles and Derek, and vice versa. Melissa almost got disqualified when she spotted them, but she turned her shocked stumble into a graceful lunge. Purely by accident, Derek could tell, but the judges couldn't.

It turned out that throwing in a lot of dips whenever he heard Melissa's low muttering worked in their favor. One of the judges, an older woman with wide hips, also inadvertently helped block them from view, standing a little too close to them and throwing Stiles flirty winks.

It was getting to the point where Derek was going to have to throw the competition to prevent the Stilinski men from seeing each other when the dance competition went from _Grease_ to _It's a Wonderful Life_. The decorations Derek had dismissed earlier – purple and white balloons caught in a glittering net – were released early, and instead of containing glitter, at least half of them contained water. No wonder their weight overpowered the net. Glitter water went everywhere. Stiles' flirty judge started shrieking, and then all hell really broke loose, in an auditory sense. Derek winced, his ears throbbing, and pulled Stiles close, grounding himself in the scent and presence of the other man. The fangs and claws that threatened to break free retreated.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, blinking glitter out of his eyes. "Do you need to go back to the room? We should go back to the room, right?"

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles' neck. "Yeah," he muttered. "That'd be best."

Unfortunately, Melissa and the Sheriff had the same idea and ducked out ahead of them. If Stiles stopped looking at Derek, there was no way he could miss his dad. Derek took a deep breath and sacrificed his dignity for the sake of love.

He tripped and fell.

Stiles gaped at him.

"You—you just _fell_!"

"Yup," Derek gritted out. Melissa and the Sheriff disappeared around the corner. "And it's really embarrassing."

"I know; I do it all the time! How the hell did you do it?"

"Uhhh… the noise? A rock? Are you going to help me up?"

"What? Yeah, sure." He held out his hand and Derek gripped it tight. "Derek Hale, discombobulated. Never thought I'd see the day."

Glitter sparkled across Stiles' cheeks and dripped down his Batman tie, and his feet squelched in his wet shoes. He looked absolutely ridiculous and was hands-down the sexiest thing Derek had ever seen.

"You discombobulate me every day," Derek said truthfully.

"That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard anyone say, and I _love_ it," Stiles said, his grin splitting his face in two. "I'm going to add it to my Facebook profile: Derek Hale Discombobulator."

"Shut up."

"No, sir, I am discombobulating you." He tugged on Derek's hand. "Let's get back to the room so I can discombobulate you in the Jacuzzi."

Derek reeled him in for a glittery kiss. And if it made Stiles a bit weak in the knees and stumbling afterwards, well, discombobulation was catching tonight.

Melissa

Moonlight filtered through the curtains. Melissa was going to get up and shut the blackout curtains in just another minute. One more minute to look at the way the pale silvery light erased the lines around Jeremiah's eyes and mouth, the way it caught in his hair, melding the gray and blond together. He seemed younger to her now than he had a year ago, certainly two years ago, when they first became secret-keepers together.

She reached out a finger to trace his lips, and he exhaled heavily, falling even deeper into sleep.

She threw his discarded shirt on to cover her nakedness for the five steps to the window, and was glad that she had. Derek stood on his balcony, fingers tight around the railing as he looked out into the distance. She shrugged Jeremiah's coat on, as well, and stepped quietly outside.

Moonlight didn't make Derek look younger. It made him look even more defined, like a chiseled marble statue – unattainable. Until he turned to look at her, and there it was – a flush still in his cheeks, his hair mussed, his eyes unexpectedly warm.

Well, Derek and Stiles had been having sex at the same time as them. That was a realization she could've lived without.

"You're quite the dancer, Derek," she said, breaking the silence. He snorted.

"Stiles was upset no one got the statue."

"Someone came by our room and gave us complimentary tickets to brunch," she said. "So there's that. Didn't you get tickets?"

"We…" He looked away. "Jacuzzi."

"No need to say anymore!"

He looked down at his feet, she looked anywhere but at his Batman boxers. Stiles had Batman boxers, she knew for a fact. She also knew Derek wore boxer-briefs, from that time a coven had targeted Scott and they'd spent a week hiding out with Derek. It had been very… illuminating. She rubbed the sleeve of Jeremiah's coat between her fingers.

"I'm instituting a moratorium on feeling embarrassed in each other's presence," she declared. "I know you're wearing Stiles' underwear, you know I'm wearing Jeremiah's shirt. La dee da. I seriously doubt this is going to be the last time we're together in these circumstances. May as well not stand around awkwardly and act like we don't know."

He blinked at her.

"Well?" she asked.

"I'm telling myself not to feel embarrassed right now," he answered.

"Good." She smiled at him, and he returned it. At least, the corners of his mouth gave a twitch – she was counting it.

"So you're in this for the long haul," he stated.

"That better not be a question you're asking me."

"I didn't want to…" He made some strange gesture that Melissa couldn't interpret.

"Assume?" she guessed. "The Stilinski boys don't do things halfway. Neither do I. _You're_ in this for the long haul, too, aren't you?"

He looked almost affronted before he smoothed his face to respectful again. His mama raised him right. "Of course I am," he said firmly.

"Good. Because if you hurt him, you'll see Jeremiah coming for you with the wolfsbane," she said lightly. "But I'll be the one to catch you." She smiled, as dangerous and wolfish as any of them. He just looked back at her, and there – now he looked young. And vulnerable. She shivered, replaying in her mind what she'd just said. "And if he ever hurts you, you come to me. Got it? I've got enough dirt on Stiles Stilinski to leave him weeping for months. Years."

Wow, his shy smile was really beautiful.

Derek

Derek woke up with Stiles folded like an inchworm on top of him – ass in the air and face pressed into the pillow beside Derek's neck. Stiles' mouth was very close to Derek's ear, and it was his snoring that woke Derek up out of a dream about attending art school and painting a picture of Stiles posing with a group of Ewoks. Which was unexpected, to say the least.

Derek scratched his fingers through Stiles' hair and glanced at the time. 9:30. It was later than he thought. The brunch tickets he'd found slid under the door after his talk with Melissa said brunch ran until 11:30.

Plenty of time to hit the Jacuzzi again.

Stiles took a little convincing in the form of Derek scooping him up and carrying him into the bathroom before half-dropping, half-placing him in the heated water. He woke up quickly after that.

"Why are we up so early?" he spluttered, accidentally hitting himself in the face with a wave of bath water.

"So I can make sweet, sweet love to you before brunch," Derek replied.

Stiles groaned. "'Make love'? 'Brunch'? Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?"

"We got free tickets to brunch. That sound more like me?" Derek's hands went to the waistband of his boxers… and then he stilled. The wind shifted and he got a big whiff of gasoline. Someone's engine had a leak, a faulty wire or something; Derek knew next to nothing about cars.

"Are you taking those off or you going to tease me all morning?" Stiles asked.

"It smells weird outside," Derek grunted.

"Weird how?" Stiles asked, but Derek wasn't paying attention because the door to the room next door opened and he could hear the Sheriff call out, "I left it in the car, back in a jiffy."

_Shit_.

"Stay put," Derek ordered. Stiles squawked in indignation, forgetting that he hadn't even wanted to get up, but Derek was already out the bathroom door and yanking over the desk chair to shove under the knob. He slipped quietly out of the suite, his eyes immediately focusing on the Sheriff. Jeremiah was whistling and approaching a red convertible. Derek sniffed. That was definitely the source of the smell, but surely the Sheriff didn't need to start the engine… except when Jeremiah opened the door, he immediately put the keys into the ignition. 

Derek couldn't take the risk. He leapt down the stairs with a roar and was pulling Jeremiah away from the car without thinking.

The engine caught fire with a whoosh, and the two doors upstairs banged open.

_Fuck_.

"Hale?" the Sheriff asked. "What are you doing here? What the hell happened to my car?"

"Derek! Are you o-- _Dad_?"

" _Stiles_?"

Melissa just ran down the stairs, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and went to town on the convertible.

" _Ms. McCall_?!"

"Son, what the hell are you wearing?"

Stiles was wearing a towel. The Sheriff and Melissa were fully dressed, at least, but Derek just had to run into Stiles' father while wearing Stiles' underwear, with a nearly naked Stiles frozen on the stairs.

That didn't last long.

Derek had long admired the Sheriff's calm, clear-headed presence in the face of… really weird stuff. He was a great foil to Stiles. Usually. Now, however, Derek was discovering what it took to tip Jeremiah Stilinski over the edge, and apparently it was the fact that he'd heard his son having sex with said son's secret boyfriend, several times.

Derek went to stand by Melissa as Stiles fired back, words like 'betrayal' and 'trust' chief among them. Melissa leaned her head on his shoulder. They should have said something before now. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took a steadying breath. The Stilinski wails stopped abruptly.

"What the fuck?" Stiles asked.

"Watch your mouth!" his father snapped. "Melissa, did you two know about this?"

"We just found out Friday night," she admitted.

"And you didn't tell me?" Stiles asked, outraged. "Derek! You traitor!"

"Enough." Melissa silenced him with a look, and when it seemed like the Sheriff was going to speak, she shut him down with one, too. "I asked Derek not to tell because your father and I wanted to tell you and Scott in person," she told Stiles. "He respected my wishes because he is a good person." Her eyes met the Sheriff's. "A _good person_ , and you're lucky he's with Stiles."

It had been… many years since the last time anyone, other than Stiles (rather begrudgingly at first), had defended him. There was a warmth in the pit of his stomach that he was entirely unused to now.

"This wasn't because I didn't want to tell my dad right away. Was it?" Stiles asked. "Wait, don't answer that; that was petty." He turned to his dad, changing conversation tracks in typical Stilesian fashion. "You like Derek, right? He just saved you from a burning car! And there was that time with the rabid omega, and that thing last Easter. You have to like him! So what's the problem?"

Jeremiah hesitated. "Of course I like him, it's just… you do realize you're wearing a towel right now? Just a towel. And those are your Batman boxers on Derek Hale."

"You have no proof those are mine! And need I point out that you were up here having a sex weekend with my best friend's mother? Were you ever going to tell me about this? And don't give me the hypocrisy speech. You're the dad."

"May I say something? As your best friend's mother?" Melissa asked, stepping forward. "I have a relationship with you that I don't want to jeopardize, and your father has one with Scott. Whatever he and I are to each other or what we'll become, I still want what I have with you. I know your dad feels the same way about Scott. We were always planning to tell you."

Stiles bit his lip and ducked his head, a typical Stiles-response to intense emotion, and Derek risked being turned away by opening his arms for a hug. Stiles came to him willingly. They were all right. Derek let out the breath he'd been pretending he wasn't holding and looked over Stiles' shoulder at the Sheriff.

"Stiles and I are better together," he said. "And maybe we should've told you right away, but I think you can understand what it's like when you get what you want."

Someone more eloquent could have worded that better -- thrown in something about dreams coming true or whatever -- but the Sheriff nodded slowly anyhow.

"Well!" Melissa said, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly. "That went well! How about we all get dressed and go to brunch together?"

Melissa

Brunch was put on hold, for a while, at least. Jeremiah seemed grateful for the distraction of the burnt car while they waited for Stiles and Derek to get dressed and join them. He was in Cop Mode on the phone to the local law enforcement, the rental company, and his insurance company. Melissa waited quietly, sitting in the armchair while Jeremiah paced around the suite. If this was what he needed to get his equilibrium back, hey, she didn't want to spend her Sunday morning talking to an insurance agent anyhow.

He hung up on his final call and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"Derek Hale, huh?" he said finally. "Not who I was expecting to see this weekend."

"But are you really surprised?" she asked. "You've seen Stiles around him for years now. Stiles' affections have always been incredibly obvious."

Jeremiah sighed. "In the case of Derek Hale, I was kind of hoping that would turn out like it did with the Martin girl."

"Tough noogies," she said, smiling.

"He appreciates Stiles," he said. "Right? I don't want my son attached to someone who doesn't get him. If he's gonna be around Stiles, he has to… Stiles is difficult, I can admit that, but he's _worth it_."

"Jeremiah," she said gently. "You know neither of them would be in this just halfway." He gave her an assessing look. "What?"

"You've already interrogated him, haven't you?"

"Guilty as charged," she admitted. "Are you mad at me?"

"I trust you," he said simply. 

"Oh," she whispered. She couldn't control the smile that took over her face, but she really didn't have to. Jeremiah flopped down into the armchair across from her.

"But man, do I really wish I could have labored under the delusion that my baby was a virgin still. In fifty years, maybe I'd be ready to know that he's sleeping with Derek Hale. _Maybe_."

She started laughing.

"Surround sound, Mel! _And_ nakedness. There had damn well better be whiskey at this brunch."

There were mimosas, which Stiles couldn't drink and Derek wouldn't out of solidarity. Jeremiah snorted, informed Derek that they couldn't get a new rental car out here on a Sunday, and Derek had just volunteered to drive the two of them back to Beacon Hills. After dropping Stiles off on campus so he could attend his Monday classes before the Thanksgiving break.

"You're awfully free with my boyfriend's time and car, Pops," Stiles said, tearing into a croissant.

"I'm happy to drive you," Derek told them.

"See? He's happy to do it," Jeremiah said.

"Thank you, Derek," Melissa said.

"He was _going_ to stay with me tonight!" Stiles protested.

"Trust me, kiddo, you don't want to be reminding me of his sleeping habits!"

"Perhaps we should change the subject," Melissa cut in.

"Great idea. How long have you two crazy kids been together?" Stiles asked.

_Shit_.

"Leave Melissa alone," Jeremiah said, rubbing at his forehead.

"You know it doesn't bother me at all that you're with Ms. McCall, right? Scott and I used to try to get you guys together. What bothers me is the way you've been looking at Derek."

"I like Derek just fine. I was just telling Melissa how much I liked him--"

"You need to say those things to _me_ , Dad!"

Melissa stood up. "Gentlemen. Derek and I are going to go eat on the other side of the room. Why don't you two have a chat? It's going to be a long car ride, and I'd rather not do it with Punch and Judy."

Derek stood up, leaned down to kiss Stiles very gently on the lips, and offered her his arm.

"Did you have to kiss him in front of his father?" she asked quietly as they made their way to an empty table.

"I didn't have to," he answered drily. "Look. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get the Sheriff to accept this thing between us. But Stiles is my top priority. I'm always going to take his side. Sometimes I have to remind him."

"Fair enough," she said. "Now, I think I need another mimosa…"

She trailed off as Derek's head jerked up and he whipped around to face the door.

"What--?" she started to ask, but then she saw them. "Scott?" she gasped.

"Mom!" he said, grinning, and took Allison by the hand. "Nice 'conference.' Hey, Derek."

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked. Melissa was still having difficulty getting her heart to stop beating loud enough to wake the dead. Allison gave her a sympathetic look. What, why? And why did they have backpacks and computer bags with them? Was everyone in Beacon Hills going to show up at Acacia this weekend?

"Allison's car broke down about five miles up the road," Scott said. "And I remember Stiles said he was going to show you this place this weekend. Can we hitch a ride with you?"

"You might change your mind about wanting one," Derek muttered.

"Why?" Scott asked him, and turned to Melissa. "Hug?"

She folded him into her arms on autopilot.

"Allison?" Stiles asked, and Melissa closed her eyes, clinging to her son, as the two Stilinskis walked over. "Scott?"

"Stiles, Sheriff," Allison greeted them.

"Whoa, Sheriff!" Scott exclaimed, stepping back and looking between the two of them. "Hey are you guys here _together_?"

"Scott, they've been dating since we left for college!" Stiles told him. So much for Melissa's speech. She braced herself for impact.

"Awesome!" he enthused.

"Which week after we all went to college?" Allison asked sharply.

"Which _week_?" Jeremiah repeated.

"The day would be best," Allison said. Stiles' mouth dropped open.

"You two had a bet going?" he asked, incredulous. Allison had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "And you didn't ask me to join?"

"I did not bet on it, Mom," Scott told her seriously. "That was Allison and Lydia."

Melissa held her hand up. "Let me get this straight. You are very happy about Jeremiah -- the Sheriff -- and I dating. Your car broke down nearby and you came here expecting to find Derek and Stiles. So you also know about Derek and Stiles?"

"Stiles called me the second Derek fell asleep after the first time they had sex," Scott said. Jeremiah buried his face in his hands as Stiles and Scott fist-bumped. Boys. "What's for brunch?"

Epilogue – Allison

"Weren't you guys planning to stay longer?" Allison asked Stiles quietly as Scott, Derek, and the Sheriff loaded Derek's Toyota with their bags.

Stiles sighed. "We were going to do finger painting," he said mournfully.

"A real loss," Allison agreed.

A tow truck pulled into the parking lot and the driver hitched a pretty red convertible with a destroyed engine to a hook and drove off.

"That was weird," Allison remarked.

"Not half as weird as when your son's mostly naked boyfriend pulls you out of it."

Allison smiled, her dimples cutting in deep. "Only you, Stiles," she said fondly. "And I call shotgun."

"That is so unfair," Stiles grumbled.

He still climbed way into the back when they all get in the car five minutes later. The Sheriff climbed in after him. Good. If the rest of brunch was anything to go by, the Stilinskis could handle some father-son bonding time. Allison climbed into the passenger seat as the McCalls took over the middle of the car. Derek gave her a stiff nod as he turned the key in the ignition.

"I want to kiss you all over, and over again!" crooned the radio.

Werewolf reflexes came in handy for situations precisely like this, but one glance at Derek showed Allison he was frozen in horror. She reached over and turned the radio off herself. You could cut the silence with a knife.

"That was a radio station," Derek finally choked out. "I didn't--I mean--"

Melissa started cracking up, and it was like she released a dam. Soon they were all laughing, even Derek (kind of). As he pulled out of the parking lot, Stiles called out from the backseat:

"You know what would be _awesome_? No one tells Lydia that we know what she thinks we don't know. And Monday night she comes for dinner, and we all ask her to keep a secret, and then…"


End file.
